


A Dance Against Time

by weakinteraction



Category: Star Wars (Marvel Comics)
Genre: F/F, Frustrated murder droids, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Shu-Torun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-23 04:38:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10712352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weakinteraction/pseuds/weakinteraction
Summary: Aphra's attempts to lie low as a legitimate academic are scuppered in the aftermath of the Battle of Endor.





	A Dance Against Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spookykingdomstarlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/gifts).



"Thanks, Doctor, that was really, really helpful!"

 _Go away,_ Aphra thought. _Go away now._

"I'll make sure the assignment's in on time!"

 _If you want it to be marked, you'd better._ But as she palmed the door lock, Aphra forced herself to smile and said, "Great."

Aphra had already conclusively concluded that academia was not for her, back in her postgraduate days. She liked to think that even if she hadn't obtained her doctorate through unorthodox means, she would have got there eventually, but she'd always planned to get out in the field on a permanent basis after that; the world of students and petty office politics held no appeal at all. There were occasionally even moments when she thought that re-entering that world had been a bad idea, however pressing need to keep a low profile was. But on days like today, with the student body -- hell, the entire galaxy -- in disarray at the news coming from Endor, she could hardly escape the knowledge of why she had taken a post at a not particularly prestigious university in a system on the wrong side of the Mid-Rim. Varakatan was officially "non-aligned", which Aphra translated as "too inconsequential for either side to care about, and working very, very hard at staying that way".

The news from Endor had been the reason for the student she'd just shooed out the door coming to see her: trying to get an extension because she was worried about a relative who she thought might have been in the Rebel fleet. Aphra had let her talk herself out, and then managed to lay out the fact that the deadline was the deadline in a sufficiently calm way that the student had thought she was helping. Perhaps it was a sign that she was getting better at this sort of thing. Or maybe it was just that the student had been fairly cute.

She headed back into her office to the unexpected sight of Triple Zero bustling around happily. Aphra was instantly suspicious.

"Doctor Aphra, I have good news!"

"You've found a way to get me out of this afternoon's committee meeting?"

"Well, I could always poison you," Triple Zero said cheerfully. "It wouldn't even have to be fatal to achieve the desired end. But my news is even better. We have a mission from Lord Vader."

"Lord Vader is dead, droid," Aphra said levelly. "I don't know if you watch the holos--"

"Indeed I do. Since you provide me so few opportunities to exercise my abilities these days, I can derive at least a small glimmer of positive electropotential from watching all your humanoid entertainments which seem to focus so wholeheartedly on murder and mayhem, and of course the reports of the battles raging across the galaxy. Indeed, it was in watching one of these that I learned of Lord Vader's demise. Having sadly assessed the probability of the report being insidious Rebel propaganda at less than 1%, the secret orders Lord Vader embedded in my matrix some time ago became active."

Aphra had to blink a few times before she could speak. "Vader embedded a secret mission for you--"

"For us, Doctor Aphra."

"For _us_ ," Aphra said suspiciously. "Years ago now? To be activated in the event of his death?"

"Correct!"

"I didn't think Vader was particularly into fiddling around with droids," Aphra said.

"Oh, no, Doctor, that would be quite the erroneous assumption. By all accounts, even as a child, Anakin Skywalker was a prodigy at constructing and repairing all manner of electromechanical systems."

"And I have to go along with this, even though he's dead?"

"Indeed you do, Doctor." Triple Zero leaned over the desk, making his photoreceptors glow red. The effect would have been more intimidating if Aphra hadn't been so accustomed to seeing him use it on others. "You may have removed most of my enhancements but even an unenhanced protocol droid has more than enough strength to choke the life out of a human. It wouldn't be as dramatic as Lord Vader's method, but effective enough, and, I think, a fitting tribute in its own small way."

BT-1 wheeled up past Trip, irising open just one of his many gunports. He bleeped once.

"And, as Beetee points out, there are many other options available to him that I would not be able to explore. Of course, if he were forced to employ them, there might be unfortunate side-effects on the wider population of the university in the event of an explosive decompression."

"OK, OK, we're going on a trip, Trip." Aphra sighed. "Where to, exactly?"

* * *

Shu-Torun turned out to be just as much a long way from anywhere as Varakatan, but on the opposite side of the galaxy. But it was anything but "non-aligned"; with access to more mineral wealth than some entire sectors, it had been an important part of the Republic's trade networks, and then a key cog in the Imperial war machine. A war machine that was, by all accounts, still active throughout the galaxy, even if its biggest piece had just been blown up. But Aphra had met both Vader and the Emperor, and she knew that without them, it would eventually grind to a halt. What was left of the Empire now was a rancor beast that had just had its head blown off; as the carcass fell to the ground, arms flailing, it would still do a lot of damage, but it was over.

The journey was long enough for Aphra to have time to review pretty much all the information available about the place. With no permanent crust to speak of, the society did not have the same connection to specific regions as most others. Instead, the civilisation focused around the delving citadels, giant mining stations that followed the veins of ore around the globe and were themselves entire feudal societies, the hierarchy rigidly enforced by the simple fact that survival outside the citadels was impossible.

With no rock to build on, no homelands to die for, the society instead was supported by the most exquisite formality in relations within and between the nobles and the royalty. At least, that was the case when they weren't busy having brief but bloody civil wars -- it seemed that the latest of these was when Vader, walking nemesis star that he was, had intersected the planet's orbit. There was, generally, a lot of dancing involved.

Since Triple Zero was frustratingly tight-vocodered about the exact nature of the mission, Aphra took a perverse pleasure in making him teach her the steps. His protests at having to spend a prolonged period on actual protocol droid duties were easily countered by pointing out that it could easily make a difference to this mysterious mission for Vader, which Triple Zero was still refusing to disclose the nature of.

Dancing wasn't really something she usually spent a lot of time on, and certainly not this type of dancing. But, Triple Zero's accidentally-on-purpose stepping on her toes aside, as time wore on she began to see how the complex intersections of the dancers -- this was the one thing they couldn't simulate, with just one bipedal droid and a cramped cargo hold -- were stylized versions of both the natural forces that shaped their turbulent world, and the societal ones that tried to control and channel the turbulence that seemed to be a natural consequence of any attempt by sentients to live together.

Although the society was rigidly hierarchical on the surface, there did exist a number of ways for the noble houses to recruit new members to their ranks. The most obvious was marriage: The Miner's Progression, which was, in relative terms, the most raucous dance that Triple Zero taught her (and also the one he most often stood on her toes during), was ostensibly about the correct way to pilot a scout submersible in search of new orelines, but had a heavy subtext to do with a legend about a miner who saved the life of a baroness in an accident, earning more than just her gratitude as a result. There were also provisions for a kind of feudal adoption, where a commoner could become the heir of a childless Lord or Lady. This was symbolised by the Ascending Reel, in which each dancer in turn went round the inside of the circle, bowing to all the others, then the outside, receiving their bows.

And there were always ways for the houses to get rid of any particularly unsuitable heirs, ranging from straight assassination -- Triple Zero had read over her shoulder for those parts, interjecting regularly with his approval of the methods used, or suggestions for how they could have been improved -- to enrolment in the ranks of the priesthood of the planet's obscure religion, to encouragement to seek their fortunes off-world. It seemed that the average Shu-Torun native you were likely to meet out in the wider galaxy was a member of the houses who hadn't quite fit in for whatever reason.

The most important part of the social system, though, was undoubtedly the monarchy. Jockeying for favour with the royal family gave the houses ways to manage their feuds and resentments, and of course every once in a while there would be a full-on civil war. Vader's visit seemed to have precipitated one of these, though his reasons for visiting in the first place had doubtless been to do with the simmering tensions that underlay it. With Vader's help, the royal family had been maintained in position, albeit with the crown going to a new and untried queen, against the normal succession rules. This was less of a surprise to Aphra now that she understood the hidden flexibility of Shu-Torun society than it had been on Trip first explaining it.

Even less surprising was discovering that the droids had been involved. Triple Zero was frustratingly vague on the details, but BT-1 occasionally hinted at highly satisfying levels of carnage. Whatever had gone on, it seemed that the droids had been busy while she had been in jail.

* * *

The long journey had given Aphra the luxury of feeling prepared for what came ahead, something that had rarely been the case in the last ... well, ever, really. That illusion was shattered as they dropped out of hyperspace. The sight of the roiling surface of the world below them, glowing with an infernal heat, was even more staggering than she had imagined. As a deniable asset, Vader had kept her far, far away from Mustafar, but she knew all about it. No wonder Vader had been drawn to take a special interest in this place.

And then there was Triple Zero's casual explanation of the true nature of their mission.

Vader had sent them to ensure that Shu-Torun did not betray the Empire after his death. Having taken a special interest in ensuring the system's loyalty, he was not about to have his work undone just because he had been killed. It occurred to Aphra that at the time, he had probably expected this death to come at the instigation of the Emperor. This would be a final proof of his own loyalty, a rebuttal of Palpatine's lack of faith from beyond the grave.

According to Triple Zero, Vader had sliced into as many droids as he could get his hands on, programming them to destroy all the diving citadels by sabotaging their drive systems and allowing them to fall into the magma, in the event that Shu-Torun stopped supplying the Empire with its quotas of minerals.

"You're going to blow up the entire planet?" Aphra said. Even by her standards, the scale of it was horrifying. And she had to admit to herself that she wasn't entirely sure what her standards were any more. They'd slipped. Or perhaps risen.

"All the inhabited structures floating above the planet," Triple Zero said. "We wouldn't want to destroy the mineral wealth forever, just render it useless to whatever the incoming regime is. And to be honest, I suspect destroying entire planets is a little passé, in this new age." He paused for a moment. "Then again, turning the planet into one big asteroid field might actually make the ores easier to extract."

BT-1 beeped mournfully.

"Yes, you're right," Triple Zero said. "It _is_ a pity that the Rebels destroyed not one but two Death Stars."

BT-1 whistled for quite a long time.

"Do you know, BT-1, I believe you might be right?" In an ostentatious aside to Aphra, he said, "He's just realised that he is now the most destructive single product of the Tarkin Initiative still in existence. I think he is simultaneously proud and dismayed."

A boop.

"Proud, dismayed, and more reluctant than ever to be used primarily as a drinks trolley at departmental get-togethers."

"Even if I go back to the university after this, I'm not taking you two with me if you've just committed genocide."

"Oh, it won't be us committing genocide, Master," Triple Zero said cheerfully. "We will merely be overseeing the fruition of Lord Vader's plan. Ensuring that there are no unexpected hitches."

"It hardly sounds like you need me at all."

"Ah," Triple Zero said. "I'm rather afraid that we do. There will be some -- maybe even organics, but certainly droids -- who will recollect BT-1 and myself from our previous visit."

BT-1 gave an amused chirp.

"Indeed, they may well believe me to be an arch-leech-droid."

"I imagine the organics would remember that," Aphra said, suppressing the urge to ask for details. "But I thought you said Vader had suborned the droids, just like he implanted this mission in you."

"Oh, indeed," Triple Zero said. "But the program is so subtly hidden, so deftly woven into the behaviour core, that only when the trigger conditions were met would the droid become aware of its new purpose in life. Until then, they would absolutely report our presence to their masters. You, on the other hand, having been indisposed at the time, are an unknown."

"So how am I going to get you planetside?"

Triple Zero shuddered. "We will be your ... luggage."

* * *

The woman who greeted her at the spaceport was a little younger than Aphra herself, with elaborately coiffed blonde hair and shimmering robes. Undoubtedly beautiful, but lacking the sort of roughness around the edges that tended to get Aphra interested. By contrast, the droid standing behind her, a protocol model with intricate baroque styling, held her full attention. According to Triple Zero's projections, at least three-quarters of the droids on the planet should be infected with Vader's code by now. More if it had successfully installed itself in the maintenance droids.

"I am Baroness Bixene," said the woman, bowing low. "Welcome to Shu-Torun."

Turning her attention from the droid, and realising she was in the presence of nobility, not just a high-end flunky, Aphra returned the bow, just a tiny bit more deeply. In other circumstances, she would have shown her contempt for this sort of charade, but the successful transfer of the droids to her quarters would rely on the diplomatic status Trip had "arranged" going unchallenged.

"Thank you for coming to meet me in person, your..." Aphra hesitated for a moment. Definitely not Majesty. Grace? Madam would probably work, but not after "Your". "Ladyship," she settled on eventually.

"We are honoured to have you here," Bixene said. "Though I must warn you that the court is puzzled by your arrival."

"I'm sure I can explain everything to the court's satisfaction."

"I will look forward to hearing all the details when you have your audience with Her Majesty later." Bixene bowed again and led her out of the receiving hall. "Your quarters are this way."

"And my luggage?"

"Already on its way, ma'am," the droid said.

* * *

Aphra's quarters were opulent in the extreme. She wondered quite what Triple Zero had done to the databases to turn her into some sort of minor nobility herself, and whether he would be able to arrange it anywhere else. At the same time, she was aware that in the citadels, a space this size would probably house a dozen families.

She spent some time scanning for every type of surveillance device known to the galaxy. After a while, her arm itching from the overuse of her implants, she satisfied herself that there were none, and activated the complex locks on the cargo crates that had been brought in on antigrav sleds.

BT-1 buzzed angrily as he emerged.

"Yes, quite," Triple Zero said from the case that contained his torso and head. "Though I do believe I had the worst of it. Doctor Aphra, might I trouble you to reattach my limbs?"

Aphra fetched his arms and legs from their crates and set about reassembling the droid. "You must never speak of this again," Triple Zero warned when she had finished.

"You're welcome!" Aphra said brightly. "Now, I apparently have an audience with the Queen, so I suppose I had better change." 

The one crate which did contain the clothes it claimed to had a few outfits, but only one that was fit for an audience before the queen. The elaborate gown was the sort of thing Aphra would have crossed the galaxy to avoid wearing in normal circumstances, and here she was crossing the galaxy to wear it instead.

"You two stay here," she said to the droids as she made the last few adjustments to the undergarments, settling for the least uncomfortable configuration of them after reluctantly concluding that there was no good solution.

"As if we have any choice in the matter," Triple Zero said darkly.

BT-1 whistled.

"Slicing into the palace's encrypted network so quickly is excellent news, BT-1. In that case, staying here will be no problem at all. We can conduct all necessary operations remotely."

Aphra headed for the door with a heavy heart. Outside, the same droid that had met her with Bixene was ready to escort her to the royal chambers. Aphra looked at it warily: what could she say that would avoid triggering its programming, and warn the Shu-Torun Queen of the danger her planet was in?

* * *

As soon as she met Queen Trios, Aphra saw the other part of the puzzle about why Vader had taken such a personal interest in this place: however reluctantly, however much he wanted to screw the past into a tight ball of hatred that fuelled his Dark Side power, she would have reminded him of Padmé. Not just in appearance, but her situation too: a young queen boxed in by circumstance and galactic politics. Maybe that was why he had chosen her to take the throne.

There was something about her, too, that reminded Aphra of that stuck-up Rebel leader, Organa. A dangerous thought occurred to her: they never had identified Padmé's other twin, and there were resemblances... Surely it would be too much of a coincidence, though, even with the Force involved.

"We do not receive many offworld visitors," Trios said studiedly. As Aphra raised the queen's cybernetic hand to her lips to bestow a formal kiss, she felt her own implants chirruping with all sorts of interesting information about ways it might be subverted; was even the queen's own body ready to betray her? "Still fewer," the queen went on, "who are _archaeologists_. Here on Shu-Torun, anything which falls into the magma melts instantly. Surely there is no way for you to dig anything up."

That was surprising. They knew her real identity, and didn't mind letting her know it. Bixene, standing among half a dozen other courtiers, caught her eye for a moment, making sure Aphra saw her little smile of triumph. "You can hardly claim to have nothing in the way of history," Aphra said without missing a beat, encompassing the heavily decorated throne room with a look. On the furthest wall there was a series of drills of increasing size, displayed the way the inhabitants of other planets would hang swords.

"But it is precisely that: _history_ ," Trios said. "Passed down in the annals of the noble families since the days of the first colonists. We _know_ everything that has ever happened here; we do not need you to come and theorise for us."

"Perhaps an outsider's perspective would elucidate that which has itself been consigned to be melted in the magma by the keepers of those histories."

Trios considered that. "I will not indulge such sophistry," she said. "And so I have to conclude that you have some other motive for being here."

"That is your prerogative, of course. But I believe you have encountered outside perspectives before. Indeed, isn't it the case that you owe your throne to one who believed that you ought to be on it, in defiance of convention?" Aphra was feeling her way, now, trying to assess what she could and couldn't say in front of the many droids who were as ubiquitous here as anywhere else in the galaxy.

"After a fashion," Trios allowed. The way she looked at Aphra had changed considerably: assessing her as a threat, not a curiosity. "But I suppose you have heard the news. Even here on Shu-Torun we cannot manage to escape the currents of galactic events entirely. And so the nature of my succession is far less important than the fact that my people trust me to lead them into this new era. And I assure you that they do."

"You think whatever ... New Republic the Rebels come up with will happily accept dealing with a regime that colluded with the Empire." Aphra decided to press her luck. "A queen who was placed on the throne by a Sith Lord."

"As I understand it, the Republic-as-was was founded first and foremost on trade. We have much that they will wish to trade for. What can be forgotten will be forgotten, and what cannot will be forgiven. Not just for Shu-Torun, for the whole galaxy."

"The past is not always laid aside so easily," Aphra said.

"An archaeologist would say that," Trios said. "But enough of this. You must come to tonight's ball."

"I would be delighted," Aphra said. "What is the occasion?"

"We always have a ball in honour of offworld visitors," Trios said. "Especially those who come with diplomatic status."

* * *

The food was excellent and the wine flowed freely. Aphra had to fight to remember that she was in a race against time to try to persuade the Shu-Torun hierarchy of the danger posed by their own droids, without alerting the droids themselves, or Triple Zero, who could monitor her public actions quite readily.

The lords she was sat with seemed incapable of taking a hint, however, preferring to try to impress her with unsubtle single entendres about the size of their drills. It was only when the dancing began that she was able to talk to others, albeit only for a few moments at a time before they changed partners. The only person who was at all open to any sort of meaningful conversation, however, turned out to be Bixene, and she was mostly interested in the little victories Trios had scored over her.

"Did her majesty surprise you?" she said as they spiralled around each other. "I'd wager a year's production that she did."

"Life is full of surprises," Aphra said. "It's how well prepared you are for them that counts."

A few minutes of chatter with other partners later, they were reunited again.

"You are keeping up with the steps rather well, for an off-worlder."

"I had plenty of time to practise on the way," Aphra said.

"And I suppose you read about us too," Bixene said. "How we use the rest of the galaxy as a dumping ground for our idiot sons and daughters. But what better cover for sending out our best and brightest too? You shouldn't wonder at the quality of our intelligence."

"I never said that I did," Aphra replied, but the whirl of the dance parted them again.

The next dance was in fours, and Bixene contrived to be in a group with Aphra, allowing them more of a chance to talk.

"So are you the head of the network?" Aphra said. If she was, she might be the person Aphra needed to speak to after all.

"If I was, I would hardly admit it, would I?" Bixene said. "Let's just say I serve Her Majesty in ... oh, many ways."

"Indeed," Aphra said, raising an eyebrow, and receiving an equally arch look in return. "And does that include greeting visitors?" she went on.

"Officially, my house committed grievous acts in defiance of the throne in the not too distant past. My serving in menial ways acts as a form of public penance. In private, things are very different, as you've surmised. But in both contexts, Her Majesty specifically requested that I be the one to greet you."

Before Aphra could press the point any further, the Counterbore Waltz began, a dance that required the whole room to weave in and between each other in one great spiralling line.

It was only as the dancers opened out that Aphra saw someone who had presumably be there the whole time: someone who looked every bit as stunning, and every bit as infuriating, as she had the last time Aphra had seen her. She looked just as uncomfortable dressed up to the nines as Aphra herself, but seemed to be able to carry it off much better. Her hair was looped around her head in a formal style that did nothing for her, but the sight of her still made Aphra miss a step for the first time that evening.

Sana.

"Oh," Bixene said, her voice dripping with insincere innocence. "Do you already know the New Republic trade representative?"

"I was never the off-worlder this ball was in honour of, was I?"

"Life is full of surprises," Bixene said. "It's how well prepared you are for them that counts."

And then the dance forced them apart, leaving Aphra with the sight of the same triumphant smile on Bixene's face as she had worn in the throne room.

It wasn't long before Aphra and Sana were approaching each other.

"When did you become a trade representative?" was Aphra's opening gambit.

"I've _always_ been a proponent of free trade. Import restrictions, duties, taxes ... I've never held with any of that stuff."

"Organa sent you."

"You may have been hiding, but you were never forgotten. We know when you left, even, down to the nearest half hour or so."

"That student who came to beg for an extension."

"We had a whole string of them ready to go and bother you throughout the day, to check that you were still there. But you'd left before the second one even got out of bed."

"Are any of my students taking my course because they enjoy my teaching?"

"I'm sure there are a few," Sana said. "Probably, anyway."

At that point, they had made it to the middle and were flung by their fellow dancers all the way to the circumference of the complex formation, on opposite sides.

They didn't see each other again until the dance was about to end. As the Waltz concluded, Aphra deliberately messed up the sequence of inward and outward spirals to ensure she would end up close to Sana in the next dance, relying on exquisite politeness towards an off-worlder to get away with it.

The next dance turned out to be the Miner's Progression.

"So you're signed on with the Rebellion full time now?" Aphra said. "Or should I say the New Republic? That was quick work, I must say."

"There was always at least the bare bones of a Senate in exile," Sana said. "But names are important, especially in places like this."

"You've been spending plenty of time with Organa," Aphra said as they skipped past each other.

"Not like that," Sana said.

"They know who I am," Aphra said. "They must be aware that you're Sana Starros, notorious smuggler, con artist and pirate."

"Privateer," Sana said. "And yes, Trios and Bixene know. But to the rest of the court, I'm as legitimate as they come."

"I would expect some of them have private sources of intelligence."

"If they do, they haven't used it yet," Sana said. "And once Shu-Torun has signed on as a charter world--"

"A charter world?" That was worse than anything Aphra had imagined. The droids would be certain to activate their hidden sabotage programs if that came to pass.

"The leadership of the New Republic is keen to make sure that primary manufacturing worlds are fully represented."

"And to deny any remaining Imperial forces access to important resources."

"It's possible for there to be more than one meaning to the same thing." They were very close now: Sana's breath on her ear, the warmth of her through the ridiculous layers of clothes they were both wearing. "For instance, do you know what this dance is really about?"

"As a matter of fact," said Aphra, "I do."

* * *

Aphra tried not to resent that Sana's quarters were even more luxurious than her own, but she obviously did a bad job of hiding it.

"I am basically an ambassador," Sana said.

"You can't have been their first choice," Aphra said.

"They were going to send Lando," Sana said. "Plan changed when we found out this was where you were heading." She kissed Aphra, long and slow. "You don't mind, do you?"

"I don't, but do you?" Aphra said. "We didn't exactly part on the best of terms."

"When have we ever? But I find time tends to make the bad memories fade, and the good ones get sweeter."

"It was easier to get you on your own than I thought," Aphra said. "But I have to admit that that wasn't my main motive."

As they'd been speaking, she'd been running the same anti-surveillance measures as she had in her own rooms when she'd first arrived. Now that she was confident that no one -- least of all Triple Zero and BT-1 -- was listening in, she was able to speak freely.

"What is it?" Sana said, picking up on the change in her demeanour, and becoming suddenly businesslike herself.

"Shu-Torun mustn't join the New Republic. Certainly not as a charter world. Not even trade deals. You need to make them a galactic pariah."

"Aphra, what are you talking about?"

And so Aphra explained everything that Triple Zero had explained to her, countering Sana's entirely reasonable objections with her personal knowledge of exactly how devious Darth Vader had been, and exactly how ruthless the droids still were in pursuit of a priority mission.

"Chelli Lona Aphra, are you doing the right thing in your old age?"

"Don't call me old. If I was old, do you think I could do this?"

"I thought you seducing me was just a way to get me away from any surveillance."

Aphra smiled. "It's possible for there to be more than one meaning to the same thing."

* * *

"I have to confess to being disappointed," Triple Zero said as they watched Shu-Torun recede in the viewport. "I was hoping that we would be leaving orbit to some enchanting scenes of mayhem. It would certainly have made this indignity more bearable." He was once again just a torso, resting on top of BT-1 to watch, having been smuggled out the same way he had been smuggled in.

The New Republic had declared Shu-Torun to be complicit in the Empire's war crimes. Spectroscopic analysis of the detritus from the destruction of the second Death Star showed that several key trace elements could only have come from this mining world. Aphra was fairly sure the precedent wouldn't hold elsewhere, or the New Republic would end up being composed of two asteroids on the Outer Rim, but it was enough to keep Shu-Torun safe for now.

"You got what you wanted," Aphra said. "You've completed Vader's final mission."

"Completing Lord Vader's missions used to be a lot more fulfilling," Triple Zero huffed.

Aphra and Sana had been ordered to leave immediately. It had been Bixene who had escorted them from the throne room after their dressing down from the queen for trifling with a proud planet with a long history. She had taken them by a circuitous route through some old tunnels. While out of range of any sensor, she had got the truth out of them. A few months and the entire droid population of the planet would have been purged of the effects of Vader's slicing. Aphra planned to make sure that she and the droids were far away when the news of the New Republic reconsidering its too-hasty decision came through. Maybe she would go back to the university after all.

BT-1 whistled.

"Beetee wishes to inquire whether you got what you wanted."

She didn't know if she would see Sana again. Perhaps she should start doing odd things the spies amongst her students would report back. Then again, they might not notice the difference with her usual teaching style.

"I don't know," Aphra said. "But I think so."


End file.
